In which Nolee visits Reaches, and sits in the snow with C'len
Nolee, C'len
Lake Shore, High Reaches Weyr
This shoreline marks the edge of the freshwater lake that fills the southeastern portion of the bowl. The gritty dirt of the bowl gives way to smooth sand. Dragons often dive from high above the lake into its chilly waters, rinsing away the pungent smell of firestone. Their riders are frequently seen standing along the shoreline, watching on, the waters too brisk for casual swimming.
Across the lake, the bowl wall rises high into the sky, its face dotted with weyr entrances. A few dragonlengths above the water, glimpses of a level cliff can be seen amidst boulders lining the edge. Just south of here, a smaller pond of water is divided from the main lake by a natural bridge of land. The water of the pond is frozen solid, an expanse of crystal glass that spreads from shore to shore. A path leads across the bridge and up to the diving cliffs, winding through a dotting of small boulders on its way.
>> It's a late winter afternoon, not yet slipping to evening though the light is dipping lower as time progresses. The weather is breezy and cold, and though there is no snow falling it sits in drifts that pile near the lake's shore. It is on one of those drifts that Vildaeth can be found, almost curled around the pile of snow on which his rider sits, bundled in a jacket and scarf. C'len sighs softly, head tilted to regard the bronze, "Can't we go in yet?" The perpetual question. "It's cold out here. Very cold."
>> Nalaieth circles once, twice, then dives toward the lake, pulling up at the last minute with a strong backwing before actually making contact with its glassy surface. Her tiny rider yanks on the straps, aiming to direct her headstrong mount, and the Istan queen acquiesces, gliding toward the shore. The pair light near the landbridge, and Nolee dismounts among the boulders, a blanket and clearly borrowed oversized heavy coat in her arms, stumbling as she steps through the snow and toward C'len. "Nalaieth recognized him from above," she brightly calls to Ista's recent guest. "Does he really like it, all this cold?"
Vildaeth's snort--which might translate to 'wuss', directed at his rider--falls short and turns into a soft croon of welcome for Ista's junior queen and her rider alike. C'len squints momentarily at the bronze, and looks like he might stick his tongue out at the dragon in retaliation, but instead schools his expression into a grin, waving with a mitten-clad hand. "He does. And he makes me spend too much time out in it." As if the dragon were holding him down to the snow. The wave turns into a beckon, C'len patting the snow next to him, inviting the visitor to freeze her bum on the snow as well. "He says that he needs to relieve himself of the warmth from Ista."
Nolee's face squinches up as she slides her arms into her borrowed jacket, then wraps the blanket around her waist, tying it secure to warm her legs. During this outfitting, Nalaieth returns Vildaeth's welcome, her tail lashing about to clear any annoying boulders so she can settle, even as her paws step-step gingerly, unused to the cold beneath. "Makes you?" The girl, still sandal-clad, giggles, and tugs a pair of socks out of her pockets, balancing as she yanks them on, then gives in and flumps down next to C'len so her task is easier. "Hiya," she offers, scooting closer for ambient warmth. "He needs to relieve himself? Oh! From it being hot. Jays, it was good of him to stick it out with her, wasn't it?"
C'len leans in a bit, almost conspiratorily. "I think he secretly liked it. Well, maybe not the heat of the sands, but..." he trails off, glaze moving pointedly to the golden girl, then back. "But at least there's no freezing rain?" This is offered almost cheerily, as if to make up for the otherwise largely unwelcoming cold. "How are things at Ista? Still warm?" A bit wistful, maybe.
Nolee leans toward the slender Reachian, her gesture friendly but also warmth-leeching. "She was awfully sweet on him, too," Nolee whispers back. "I think his attentiveness toward the eggs and in general won heaps of favoritism." Nalaieth bats her eyes, though it could be to mositen them against the icy chill of the weyr they visit. "Freezing rain? Like, rain that's frozen? And hard?" The Istan makes a face that is both displeased and fascinated. "Bet it'd make good drinks, though." Tipping her head, she gives him her best 'coy' face, which is likely more silly than successful. "You could visit. It's been beautiful. Especially now that we're off the sands. They're growing so fast!"
Vildaeth, though briefly interested in the visitng gold, seems to've returned his attention to the snow, nosing a pile of it and twitching his tail through some at the back--in general, reveling in its cold. "It's horried stuff," he confirms for the Istan, grimacing, "Even better when we have to do drills in it." C'len draws his legs up closer, huddling in some for more warmth, momentarily ducking his head with a grin after Nolee's comment. "We could. We should - it'd be good to see the weyrlings, I suppose."
Nolee watches Nalaieth for a few moments, the gold friendly toward yet not making overtures at the native bronze, busy as she is with her own landscape clearing. After a headshake of disbelief, either at the dragon or the arctic drills or both, she tucks her legs up, too, the better to shelter them beneath the blanket. "I'm sure they'd welcome a visit. Anything out of the ordinary is welcome, when it's you and mucking and the routine. How's it been for you since you returned?"
"It's been busy. I think our weyrlings might be graduating in a few sevendays, maybe. Still some time to spend doing nothing, though," C'len says, spreading his hands to indicate the current activity, or lack thereof. He grins, "Much better than mucking, anyhow. And you? Busy with records?" The rider tilts his head slightly, "You warm enough? We could maybe get some klah in the caverns?" comes the offer, tinged with worry.
Nolee blinks her wide brown eyes, considering. "Graduating. Jays. I suppose ours'll do that eventually, too, but they must have at least another turn before they'll be ready. You don't help to train them, then? I suppose if you did, they wouldn't have wanted to let you and Vildaeth come away for so long." She pokes her fingers out from the sleeves of her oversized coat, looking at her their reddened tips. "Ugh, records, of course. And fresh fruit to pick, and work on repairs still from the cave-in. Pretty much as usual. --I'd like that very much, actually. It's awfully cold out here, and I think my toes are frozen."
C'len shakes his head, "Nah, I don't help with that. Well, not any more than any of the other riders who aren't on the staff do, anyway." He pauses, as if musing, "Why do we need so many records anyway? I haven't figured out why it's important." The rider leans back a little, balancing carefully so that he doesn't topple into the snow. "Should be warm stew in the caverns, too."
Nolee nods, "We've something similar, for rules. But I get to see them sometimes, since I'm helping mentor two of them." Regarding records, Nolee wiggles her toes back and forth, looking for sensation. "Ugh. I don't know why we need that much either. It's all silliness, to me. All that writing, and rewriting." She stands up, slips in the slick snow, and stretches. "Won't you be my escort? Not only do I not know the way around, but I'm not very steady, especially on this frozen stuff. Shall we?"
C'len pushes himself up easily, used to the slippery snow after Turns of the cold stuff. Vildaeth snakes his neck forward, pointed muzzle momentarily offered as support for the visitor before his rider can even stand. Then C'len's up, holding out his arm in a formal proposal of escort. "It would be my pleasure, m'lady," he intones in a nasally drawl, face schooled into seriousness. "To the caverns!" "--to the Sharding warmth," is muttered moments later, softly.